


Shards of the Heart

by lacewingss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Heartache, M/M, developing feelings, i mean as well as tsukishima can comfort at this point, somewhat hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: While attending a training camp in Tokyo Yamaguchi notices Tsukishima spending more time with Kuroo, and has trouble processing his feelings about it.





	

It felt like his heart was shattering. Piece by piece, each shard sharper than the last. The broken pieces dug into him, tearing their way through his body until they fell to the floor below him, a hole now where his beating heart used to be.

  
Across the court Tsukishima leaped into the air, hands reaching high above him, oblivious to the massacre behind him.

  
Yamaguchi looked away, his hand reaching to his chest reflexively, like gripping at his shirt would stop the pain coming from his heart. He shook his head, lowered his hand. It was no good. Just watching Tsukishima practice with Kuroo was enough to make him want to squeeze his eyes shut and never open them again.

  
It would have been easier if the reason for Yamaguchi’s pain was more valid than it was, but as it stood there was nothing to be heartbroken over. Tsukishima wasn’t his, not by any means. He had no right to be so upset every time he saw him smile at Kuroo, or return the praise he received from the member of the Nekoma team. Yet we was.

  
He was jealous. He was worried. He wanted to be the one Tsukishima was offering that rare smile too, the one who helped him grow. It shouldn’t have been so painful that it was not him, and yet it was.

  
Yamaguchi knew he had a fragile heart. It had been bruised and mended over many times before. The small things that had poked and scratched at him healed in time, some wounds slower than others, but none lasting forever. He knew how to push through heartache, how to let time nuture him. His heart was fragile, but it was not glass. It was a china cup that had fallen from the shelf, but was carefully glued back together.

  
Watching Tsukishima slowly drift away from him, though, made Yamaguchi think that this time his heart would never be whole again.

  
Earlier that week, when he had noticed Tsukishima spending extra time with some of the other boys, Kuroo in particular, he had tried to avoid thinking too much about it. After a day he tried avoiding watching them at all. And now, half a week into their training camp, he was avoiding Tsukishima altogether.

  
He was doing it to give his friend space, he told himself.  Tsukishima was showing an interest in practicing. He was showing an interest in making friends. Yamaguchi had even seen him laugh with Kuroo the other night. That was _good._ He was so happy for Tsukishima he would have shouted it out for everyone to hear if he could. The cold boy who had stood by him so stoically for years was finally warming up and finding his place. Yamaguchi could never interrupt that.

  
Even if it hurt, it was better to push his own feelings aside. Maybe this was his chance to grow as well, to learn the feel of heartache so deep it felt like drowning. There had to be merit in that knowledge, too.

  
So he bit the inside of his lip and took as deep a breath he could without it catching and hitching in his throat. He could do this. For Tsukishima, he could do this. 

“Why are you avoiding me?”

  
Tsukishima’s voice right by his ear made Yamaguchi jump and drop the ball in his hands. Without turning he bent down to retrieve it before it could roll away.

  
“What?” He asked, and did his best to wipe any traces of the pained expression off his face before facing Tsukishima.

  
“This week. Don’t tell me you’re not doing it on purpose.”

  
He had noticed. Of course he had noticed. Yamaguchi should have known; it was near impossible to get anything by Tsukishima. It was too easy to forget he was always watching. Even when his attention was focused on practice or studying or even the music playing in his headphones, he was aware of everything around him. Yamaguchi had just never put it together that he was someone Tsukishima watched so closely. The shards of his heart pulsed, and with it came a pain sweeter than before.

  
“I-I’m not. I’m not avoiding you at all,” he stuttered, his fingers squeezing into the ball in his hands.

  
Tsushima’s eyes darted to the ball, then back up to his face. He stood resolute, not quite blocking the exit but not leaving an easy escape route, either.

  
“Yes you are,” he said, so confident in the truth of his words that Yamaguchi thought he must have known the instant he started shying away from him.

  
Yamaguchi would not confess so much out loud, though. Instead he forced a smile and shrugged.

  
“We’re just practicing different things. That’s why we’re here, right? I’ve got my own things to work on and so do you.”

  
He hoped that would be the end of the conversation. That Tsukishima would nod and turn away. Instead he glowered down at him, his eyes hard.

  
“So practice expands into the night then? And before breakfast?”

  
Yamaguchi flinched, and that was enough of a confession of guilt.

  
 “See. I’m right.”

  
Something inside of Yamaguchi flared up. Maybe it was the way Tsukishima was looking at him, or the way he wasn’t looking at him. Maybe it was the all pent up things he wanted to say but knew he couldn’t.

  
“So what?” he said, his voice raising. “So what if we’re not spending every minute together. What’s wrong with that?”

  
Tsukishima raised his eyebrows beneath his glasses, and Yamaguchi had an unusual wave of satisfaction seeing the shock in his eyes.

  
“Nothing,” Tsukishima answered, recovering quickly from his moment of surprise.

  
It wasn’t the answer Yamaguchi secretly hoped for, but at this moment it fueled whatever was inside of him that wanted to escape the gym as soon as he could.

  
“Good,” he said, thinking now the conversation had come to an end. He was about to turn away when Tsukishima spoke again.

  
“Your serves aren’t as good as they could be, though.”

  
“I-“ Yamaguchi started, ready to argue in anyway that stopped Tsukishima from looking too deep into his eyes, where he would see more than Yamaguchi was ready to show. His words died on his lips, though, and the fire in his voice went out.

  
Tsukishima was right, of course. He had been so focused on looking anywhere that Tsukishima wasn’t that his serves had been erratic and never in the area of the court he wanted. He had been waking up early, something his body found almost as difficult as flying, and rushing to practice without a good meal. His performance was suffering in his challenge to avoid Tsukishima, and it had been noticed.

  
His shoulders slumped, and Yamaguchi lowered his head, looking at his fingers as they tensed and relaxed around the ball.

  
“I know that. I know it,” he said, and already he hated the way he had acted. It was childish, and the timing could not have been worse. They were here in Tokyo to improve, not only on the court but off, and here he was letting his feelings get the better of him to the point where he was not only not improving, but regressing. The wasted days hit him then, and his fingertips dug into the ball until they were red. He had not been avoiding Tsukishima to help him, but to spare himself, and even doing that had hurt more than he thought anything could. In sparing himself had he not thought once about how the changes in his routine would affect the rest of the team, and Tsukishima in particular.

  
He had to face Tsukishima now. Apologize, confess, yell, _something_. He did not want to waste one more day, not here in Tokyo and not back home, either. He wanted to improve and he wanted to do it at Tsukishima’s side, as he always had.

  
“Yamaguchi.”

  
Looking up from the ball, Yamaguchi saw Tsukishima looking at him, his arms across across his chest. He did not look disappointed, or annoyed, or mad. He looked like he always did when they were alone - somewhat far away, but softer around the edges.

“Let’s go eat dinner,” he said. There was no extra warmth to his voice, no hint that he was trying to comfort the obviously upset Yamaguchi. It was a simple suggestion, one that he had given many times before in more or less words. But this time beneath the words it said _there is no need for an apology, just don’t do it again._

  
 The normality of it brought Yamaguchi back to his senses. He did not need to say anything else, not yet.

  
“What about your practice with Kuroo and Bokuto?” he asked, nodding towards where the other boys were waiting.

  
“I don’t care. They’re annoying anyway.”

  
Tsukishima began to walk towards the double doors of the gym, not giving a second glance to Kuroo. He stopped only when he realized Yamaguchi was not following him. 

   
“There’s nothing wrong with not spending every minute with them, you know,” he said, then continued out the door.

  
The shards of Yamaguchi’s heart shifted in his chest, and instead of pain there was a thump of something pleasant as they began to fuse themselves back together. He grinned, genuine and wide, for the first time since they had arrived in Tokyo, and jogged to catch up to Tsukishima.

  
Yamaguchi had a fragile heart, he knew. But like the rest of him, it was getting stronger. 


End file.
